


Blood Covered Walls

by snfxo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Horror, M/M, TW: Blood, loosley based of ahs hotel, read at caution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5852794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snfxo/pseuds/snfxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello, Ian..."</p><p>His voice drawled out, his words slurred and low. </p><p>"We've been expecting you.."</p><p>And then the lights went out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, a few notes before you read. This is just a teaser of my new story. It's a horror story so if it blood and gross stuff makes your stomach queasy, please don't read. Also, please no negative comments towards this. I've worked really hard on the teaser and I enjoy it very much. I hope you do as much as I do. Thank you, enjoy!

See, the thing is Ian wants to die. It not because he's had a rough life or any bullshit like that, he just wants to know. He wants to know what it feels like to gasp for your last breath or to feel your soul being pulled out of your body. Ever since he was a child, he's always had this fascination with death. His brother used to call him stupid and his sister hid the knives. He wasn't going to kill himself was the thing. He couldn't kill himself because that's not how he wants to die. He wants to die, but in a specific way. He wants to die slowly, so he can remember what it feels like. So he can remember the pain coursing through his body. Savoring the feeling of _dying_.

It all happened in an instant, he was running, what from you might ask? Nothing, at all. Life, maybe? Who knows? He arrived at this house, it was old and broken down, the fence along the house was rusted and barley standing up. The steps had paint chipping off, red splattered on them and around the porch. On the porch sat a yellow swing, bright as day and no scratches or paint chippings near. It was rocking back forth, due to the wind, Ian told himself. He was drawn to it, as if he was a positive magnet going towards a negative. When he was two steps away, a voice cried out, "Help me!"

Ian forgot all about the yellow swing, following the noise as it continued to shout 'help me'. He opened the front screen door, it creaking ever so lightly. He walked inside, being careful not to drag his feet as he followed the noise. He looked around the house, seeing shattered pictures of a family and bloody footprints, that looked as if they belonged to a child.

Ian cringed, swallowing the lump in his throat and continued to follow the noises until they got to loud that he could feel his ear drums throbbing. "Hello?"

He called out, wincing as the screams started getting louder. He pushed the door open, titling his head to the side so he could press his ear to his shoulder. He swiftly walked inside the room, tears spring to his eyes as the screaming got louder and then it stopped. He uncovered his ears, blinking as the tears fell down his cheeks, looking around the room.

It was dark room, the size of his kitchen. It had a dim light hanging loosely at the top of the ceiling, shining directly on the counter. The counter was covered in blood and charcoal.

"Hello."

He jumped at the sound, turning and seeing a little boy standing in the door but not coming in the room. He looked as if he was four years old. He had black hair with brown eyes. But what stood out the most was not his eyes, nor his hair, it was the fact he had dried up blood on the bottom of his feet and hands.

"Who are you?"

Ian asked, his voice shaking slightly. He was petrified, he didn't even want to be here but he couldn't find himself able to move.

"My name is Yevgeny," he said, proudly, "and you're in my daddy's office. He doesn't like people in his office."

Ian blinked, staring at the child. He rubbed his arms, closing his eyes and then re-opening them. Once he reopened them, the little boy was gone and he heard giggles going down the hallways.

He eventually regained control of his feet, then he followed the sounds of giggles. He stopped in front of a large dining room that had three plates set out with food sat on them. He slowly inched forward but was stopped by a hand grabbing his shoulder. He jumped, looking for the person who grabbed him and was met with a older version of 'Yevgeny'.

"Hello, Ian..."

His voice drawled out, his words slurred and low.

"We've been expecting you.."

And then the lights went out.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Welcome to Milkovich House of Horrors..."
> 
> Mikhalio hummed, leaning forward a trailed his fingers down Ian's neck, which created a small scratch and blood began to trickle down his neck. He leaned forward, until his face was against Ian's neck and he whispers, his icy cold breath fanning against the cut on his neck,
> 
> "Enjoy your stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda fucked up.

The house was cold, but not cold enough. The lights came back on in a matter of ten minutes, he counted and he was in a different room. The room was yellow, like the bench he had saw on the porch. Everything was yellow, the couch, the walls, the floors, everything except for a women. She was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed and covered in blood. She whimpered, turning to face him with a painful look upon her face. "Help me." She whispered, the same exact words that drew him into the home. Then she was gone and so was the room.

He was back in front of the kitchen, the man standing in front of him with a wicked smirk. It was then that Ian took the time to see the man in full view. He was wearing all black, except for a white doctors coat placed on his shoulders. He was beautiful. By far the most beautiful thing Ian had ever seen in his life. His black hair swept across his forehead, his blue eyes blinding him, and his lips were pink and plump, making him even more irresistible.

"Who are you?"

Ian felt the words fly off the tip of tongue before he could stop himself. The mans face twisted into an emotion he couldn't explain.

"Mikhalio."

He said, in the softest tone and Ian felt as if he had fallen in love for the first time. He repeated the name, flicking his tongue across teeth and watched Mikhalio smile. Mikahlio ran his fingers across his clothed shoulder, a sudden sensation shooting through him. When Mikhalio pulled away, Ian reached out, wanting to feel more of his skin. Mikhalio walked down the long hallway, Ian right behind him and stopped in front of a green door. He watched as Mikhalio opened the door and that is when he finally removed his eyes from him to observe the room. The color of the room was red and he couldn't tell if it was blood or just a dark shade of paint. In the middle of the floor was a white towel and on top of the towel was something he could never un see. It was insides of the women, who was currently laying beside the towel and gasping for air.

"Help...me..."

She cried out.

"You must ignore her... She is a fool.."

Mikhalio's voice brought his attention away from the gasping women laying on the floor. He had a look of frustration on his beautiful face, like he was upset at the women. Mikhalio sat in the doorway, watching as the women clawed at the floorboard and begged for mercy.

"Sit."

Mikhalio commanded, not taking his eyes off the struggling women. Ian obliged, pressing his side against Mikhalio's, who did not protest. He watched with him, for what felt like hours, he watched as the women looked at him with pleading eyes and he did nothing. He didn't even feel a pang of guilt, he felt more satisfied than anything.

"I enjoy watching people die, Ian Gallagher."

Mikhalio said, after (minutes? hours? days?), his fingers flexing across the floorboard as if he needed a reminder that this was all real.

"Did you kill her?"

Ian asked him, his eyes still trained on the withering women. She called out his name and he shivered, not liking it as much as he did on Mikhalio's tongue.

"She is not dead yet."

That was Mikhalio's only reply, which Ian decided that he had already asked enough questions. Thirty minutes later, Ian counted, the women stopped begging. She stopped crying out for help. She stopped breathing. Ian turned to see Mickey's reaction and he saw a soft smile on the man's face. They sat there for a few more moments, staring at the women's corpse and when it began to smell, Mikhalio pulled himself up. He walked out, Ian trudging slowly behind him, then he walked up the stairs, making creeking sounds as he moved. They arrived at another door, it was grey and dull and Mickey opened it. The inside of the room was worst than imagined, worse than what he saw down in the blood covered room, it was sickening and Ian loved it.

"Welcome to Milkovich House of Horrors..."

Mikhalio hummed, leaning forward a trailed his fingers down Ian's neck, which created a small scratch and blood began to trickle down his neck. He leaned forward, until his face was against Ian's neck and he whispers, his icy cold breath fanning against the cut on his neck,

"Enjoy your stay."

And then the most pleasurable feeling shot through him when he felt a soft kiss press to the cut. And then he saw white.


End file.
